


Primp Worldbuilding

by cinne3



Category: Puyo Puyo (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, all a headcannon but the shit makes sense, god bless 4/20, implied klug x sig, klug - Freeform, primp is an a blank page for me so I wanted to give it shape, raffina - Freeform, sig - Freeform, to me at least, wrote this in under a day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 20:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18532624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinne3/pseuds/cinne3
Summary: An excuse for me to get to know Primp and Primp denizens better. Klug is skic at the time Raffina goes fuck all in the gym. And Sig is a walking time bomb.





	Primp Worldbuilding

**Author's Note:**

> Foreword: I'm commemorating 4/20 with 42 prompts that I'll try to dish out in as little time it takes me. No no sleep and coffee tastes like fermented beans, so there is close to zero chance I pull any all-nighters.
> 
> (I can see Klug obsessively reading this I don’t think I need say why)

“The Primp schooling system follows three criteria to the fleshing out of their lessons: technique study, mastery, and execution. Students are open to the fundamental know-how’s that is puyo puyo and how they are to set off, why, and eventually going on to their immersion in matches. Since popping enough puyo harbors the student’s magic, at one point execution and mastery are integrated into one course session, as some teachers find it saves time. 

Though, while anyone can study and play puyo puyo, it’s acting on the magic you build as a result that draws advanced students from the middle class. Depending on the might of your attack and how well coordinated, this alone can promote a student’s position. Out of the fact that puyo puyo is encouraged to having been mastered as a means of protecting one’s self and the greater depth in magic studies overall. This isn’t the only other option, but as an example, a student’s skill in puyo can be far behind proficient and instead take up on a variety of the magic arts, but this is among the more challenging pathways. A third and often idolized option given, is for students to show advancements in both puyo puyo and magic arts singlehandedly. This is said to have been reserved for talent, as work pays off but students are testing their in-class limits as much as they do exponentially in the practice of magic.”

This had to have come through everyone’s dense skulls at one point, as it did for Raffina. Weeks ago she stole Klug’s books out of wholly spite for him (but never would she say exactly what it was that bothered her) and read these herself. She stopped to gloat, a corner or a light reflected in her water being an object of focus as she figured out her place. Never mind that she lies about possessing magic potential, if she only ever possessed the source of it from her bag, and would lie anyway to have a leg-up on Klug. Raffina wanted desperately to know what this meant for her, being without the gift or availability in her bloodline. 

She thought she’d even have to ask. But Mrs. Accord handed the answer to her discretely, answering another student’s question and, thank God, went on to repeat for the class to hear. 

In the Primp school there was something like a gymnasium, on account of its’ strength training for who may need it. Keeping in mind she was a cold-humored ‘magic-user’, Raffina isn’t ignoring the limits set for her as it is. She catches on to the concept - of puyo - but the attack carries out flimsy and far-out, or too concentrated on an axis, on her end. So to save herself the embarrassment she would utilize strength training today. 

The room structures like any gym. Posters diagram point of range and at least twenty a headcount of target dummies were waiting on stilts to get fried.

To prevent the student body from suffering these attacks, three sliding doors line the room vertically, a fourth crossing them to split the area into eight separate training grounds. 

Raffina borrowed an empty room and surprised to say she didn’t think it was small compared to their classroom. She watched her back, to make sure Klug doesn’t find her sitting on a problem he will absolutely bring out to an extreme. She found nothing, and shut the door behind the force of her palm. 

For students not at all magically articulate, she remembered Mrs. Accord mention a field that surrounds all living things, and to bring it out we should start from its strongest point (the soul) and run it through to your area of choice. Or the hands, if this was where students project their attacks. She would try it out, and go in zen mode, probably to better get the gist of it. Raffina found a bench at the furthest wall opposite the door and left her morning supplies there.  
A low, sailing breath going out as she stretched. She thinks back to any yoga poses she can use. 

And another voice protrudes across the room. Raffina could have been kidding herself but it sounded like someone she knew. And the voice trails again through the walls. She made a move to put her ear against the wall as it burst or - no - a gas like fire clambered over the wall without leaving the fire to catch and died off to leave a shape of its intrusion on the wall. 

Shock froze her still, the same shock moving Raffina closer to the blasted flecks of plaster around the wall and dust smoking between the two rooms, that she could see in their movement even under no real light, until she looked in and saw figures matching the voice she heard. 

– - – 

 

As it happens, Klug was sick in the middle of a listless spring. That one day it was rain, or shine, or correlating both under a wind hard enough to shake the roof off his house. He didn’t know if it was last week or since yesterday he was so much the slicker in heat and a case of chills. He felt like his eyes were giving out but he still went to school and all Sig can do is hide him in the training rooms until after the final bell. 

He noticed Klug imbued in a fever only after they left the room and he was waking him to the nursery. As before he thought Klug was that much flustered and wanted in on the joke that cracked his ego. Sig also mistook he was even taking Klug to the nursery because halfway to the second door they passed on their right, he nimbly felt the length of his sleeve to seize his hand. 

Klug gave away a piercing air then.

He asked if he can stay in the training rooms, begged him to leave the nursery and forget he waste his time waiting for the affirmative a ride home when there was none. Sig was picking up on a whine. And for a long while doesn’t say anything, pained with the idea of leaving him either at home better off and forever hating his guts or neglecting a spring cold. They stand in the quiet. 

Klug finally promised to help Sig even train when they get there. He  
sucked the air in through his teeth that intervaled his talking when a headache triggers. Sig muttered in something like disapproval, and renewed the strength to throw his hand off. 

“I’m not - listen,” he started, “I can’t let you hurt yourself bad. You’re not at home when you should be, so at least let me take care of you. You really need to stop-“

He cuts off as Klug coughs into his fist, recites he doesn’t need to worry. He was fine as long as the condition is in a stasis.  
He said, “I’m fine, I’m fine. How do the nurses treat me anyway? They sit me on a cushioned bench and leave a barrel of animal crackers for me. You have animal crackers, Sig?”

Sig doesn’t and promises he keep his eye on him, should Klug do anything more stupid to date. Klug would have brushed his sleeve again and squeezed his good arm (the one that breaks his pencils) if given the energy to show for it. He instead smiled and on their way back to training grounds, Sig continued shooting down his chances of payback. 

He can’t stand seeing Klug like this. Better yet he wants him to take his lunch money and go outside for once on a bug hunt. Anything, he said. 

Sig was wrapping an arm for support around Klug as they walked. 

When they are safe and Klug is dozing off on a bench lining the wall, Sig has to admit he wants a little shut-eye too but was riled for once and stressing a one out of a thousandth chance he really should take Klug to the nursery. So he stood to watch over him. And enthused his Lady Bug for a time. 

Klug snaps to attention after twenty minutes only to read Trajection Theory, with his legs kicking up and his back to the ceiling. He already struggles to lie straight without sinking face-first into the pages. Klug eventually is the one to ask, “Why don’t you go back to class?” while rolling his sleeves and sweating, impressionable by the fever he chose to ignore. It looks like Klug had a workout behind his back and just now retreated to the books. 

“I took you out when my free period started, Klug. Why aren’t you sleeping?” he answered.

“Because, it doesn’t help if I’m too hot to sleep for long. I know what to occupy myself with.”

Klug’s eyes fall from the book to the floor the longer in thought he was. He said, “Why don’t you use the combat rooms since we’re here?”

Sig tenses. If Klug was looking at the time he would’ve seen his hair appendages twitch. (But as rare as the epiphany, it saw through to Klug in his dreams).

“I’m too scared to raise the wrong hand when I fire off. You know how I attack with my right? Or both?”

Klug nods in his direction. 

“It’s ‘cuz I have no control how strong my attacks are from my left hand. Could be the source of all my power. And last time, when I tried, I broke a tree in half.”

And Sig wasn’t willing to try again. He can’t begin to guess how the attack will be renditioned - this mattering less in the face of opponents because then he can let his attacks be unpredictable all they want. He was afraid of the unpredictable blowing this room’s walls off.

Kl. meditates on it as he thumbs in between the pages. 

 

“I know of a few ways to keep it under your belt, if I can read them off for you,” he mused.

“Klug, please. Don’t. If you live until tomorrow I can ask. You shouldn’t even be up right now.”

Klug draws his face together, exhausting a shallow noise and immediately his enthusiasm is straight down to none. 

Sig can’t believe it’s the second time he manages to convince him otherwise. So Klug cues that he found what he was looking for and he listens. He’s lagging behind the words before he asks Klug to recap.

Sig starts off with a three chain, synonymous for lack of effort or strain on everyone’s part if they didn’t need a technique. Green puyo sandwiched the red that sandwiched the purple, and he set it off.  
The attack concentrated now on his left arm, as a raw progression of his power was running to his hand. This was already too much, he was thinking, too much if he had any hopes of controlling it. 

Compared to how he normally does, the attack manifests into a sphere dilating and losing shape. It looked more or less alive and not like a fire in his hand anymore. 

Klug was sitting up against the wall to watch. He couldn’t immerse himself completely being red in the face and fatigue-ridden, but he isn’t turning away. Sig was channeling the attack in his left arm alone, about to fire it off. And out of a change in energy, Klug called it off with a “Go!”.

Sig projects the rolling fire in his hands at a nearby dummy, that missed, lands on the wall and through it.

Raffina double takes when she sees this. 

This is when she loses character for a minute to undergo the shock. She asks what they’re doing of all things and Sig jokingly allows her to step inside.  
“Thanks. I’ll use the door,” she mouthed. Raffina points to nothing in particular and goes through the motions of interrogating them as her reaction catches up to her. 

“You’re doing magic.”

Klug answered for them: “No. I think we’re done here.”

“He’s skipping classes and bumming it out in the gym.”

“No,” Sig repeated, “He’s sick.”

“And you’re not leaving to go home?”

Sig decides now is when he cuts Klug off from a downpour of excuses and tell Raffina how it is. Raffina listened earnestly, still latching a hand to a part of the wall that was in tact until her interrupting was necessary. 

“Klug, get up. It’s the nurse’s or the heel of my shoe.”

Klug almost choked on his spit. He tried resisting but that got him nowhere but dragged into the halls holding Sig’s arm and Raffina policing him from behind. 

After Sig being the one who promised him his lunch, Klug was persuaded to stumble inside, as Raffina and Sig circled the school back to where the halls crossed. Sig had thanked Raffina personally, that it was close to the end of his free period and he didn’t know if he would have the heart to leave Klug alone, sick and out of his mind. Raffina welcomes the gesture.  
And on closing the door behind them, they hear a voice in there with Klug that doesn’t register with being one of the nurses. They were quick to assume he was probably under someone else’s care, a student or some other, and moved on their separate ways. Not paying mind to a sudden fog sifting from the cracks of the nursery’s door.


End file.
